


Just Follow Your Nose~!

by YogurtTime



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Blow Jobs, Dancing, M/M, Masks, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2019-02-28 06:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13265817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YogurtTime/pseuds/YogurtTime
Summary: Jin can’t even think of sleeping with anyone who knows him and as it is now, almosteveryoneat least knows him by face.





	Just Follow Your Nose~!

 

 

“That’s cute. What are you, some kind of dog?” Yu queries laughingly in Jin’s ear when he shuffles over through the noisy masked and coloured throng all striped with glitter paint and clouded with hanging oblong white lamps from the ceiling. The melee of partiers around Yu and the bar shine under strobe lights and sweeping blue and purple lasers.

“I’m a shark,” Jin dead-pans as best he can at this volume for probably the sixteenth time that night. He turns, showing Yu the back of his head. “See the fin?”

“Oh.” Yu sounds unimpressed. “You should’ve gone for something with a tail.” At these words, he reaches behind him and lifts a very _long_ , very real-looking orange fox tail to his cheek. “Gives them something to yank on.”

Jin’s mask only covers his eyes and nose so he frowns pointedly so Yu can see through his fox eye-holes. “It’s too dark in here; I want to be able to see who’s yanking on anything of mine.”

Even in this minimum lighting, Jin can see Yu’s mask rise on his face when his mouth spreads in an arch grin. “Or _do_ you?”

“Point taken.”

Yu’s eyes in the circle of his mask narrow happily. “Well, try to have _some_ fun then.”

Fun for Jin is having the chance to be silly with his closest friends. Fun for Jin is being immersed in music, knowing he’s on the verge of finishing something that really, _really_ jams the way he likes. And then of course there’s the sex kind of fun. He’s had more than plenty of the first two types, but it’s the third that’s been in a sad state of deficiency recently.

It’s not a matter of attraction; it’s for strictly _contextual_ reasons. As it is, and while the tabloids are all sitting in their white surveillance vans waiting for him to enter a building at the same time as anything with legs, he can’t even think of sleeping with anyone who knows him and as it is now, almost _everyone_ at least knows him by face.

So yeah, given the masks, Jin doesn’t actually mind costume parties at all for all of the above reasons, and on the bonus side, word hasn’t gotten out that he’d be at this party so chances of anyone recognising him in his hand-crafted (OK no, more like the equivalent of four dollars at one of those stores) shark mask are zilch to none. Jin is in the most ideal place to find some anonymity.

An even bigger bonus: it’s only been half an hour and Jin’s pretty sure he’s spotted just _exactly_ the kind of thing he’s been looking for. Tall, limber-looking, leaned all striking and mysterious. Right near the DJ sound system.

Maybe it’s that he’s wearing a _top hat_ that Jin almost mistakes him for dressed as a penguin until he sees him tilt his head and the bright and pale tropical teal colour of the costume beak and the streaks of striking yellow and black feathers at a satin collar. A _toucan_ in a top hat and charcoal-coloured smoking jacket. How cute.

“Just a little fun, then,” Jin mumbles, leaving a smirking Yu and his tail by the bar.

He’d played around with the idea when he was considering Yu’s invite. Just to be able to proposition, dance with someone, feel them under his hands and keep them from knowing who he is, of being just a sensual person, giving and taking everything without so much as a proper introduction or the fame, protocol, star-struck gestures that comes with the knowledge that it’s _him_. It’d be like the old days in L.A where it could happen anywhere and with nearly anyone. Unpredictable.

 

Jin’s toucan doesn’t turn when he approaches, but appears to be deeply immersed in the bass. Jin watches his body thrum a little, raw-boned frame titching against the DJ table. Toucan-chan’s a bit twiggy, but he’s got a _seriously_ nice line, all hard but delicate. Jin can’t see his hands as the man’s costume seems to include a pair of black kid-gloves, but they look sure and languid all at once in movement. His hair is a faint brown from what Jin can get in the dark and spanning threads of laserlight, and the way the tapered smoking jacket makes his ass look. Just _god_. Jin hasn’t had the promise of something like that in so long…

“Hey,” he whispers, curling his fingers around an angular shoulder, making sure to brush his lips along the shell of his target’s ear. “Dance with me?”

The man freezes, whole body going rigid at the touch, a helpless shudder that lets Jin know how easy this is going to be. Jin slips his other hand up a frozen spine, coaxing him toward the dance floor. The man twists around and through dark eye holes, Jin sees a narrow, studying gaze giving him a stunned once-over. Definitely Japanese where Yu’s parties usually have a wide-range of mixes. Jin smiles; he tries to look harmless; just a guy in jeans, a hoodie and a shark mask. His target’s lower lip and sharp jaw is visible under the large beak; lip pink, pouty and full, stretches suddenly into a bemused smile.

Jin takes that as a yes as he steps backward into the warmth of an already swaying, bass-drunk, rolling crowd, pulling an uncertain toucan in by the hips that sit so easily in Jin’s palms.

The man can _really_ dance or at the very least, he follows Jin’s lead too perfectly. All of Jin’s beckoning touches, hands sliding down arms so they grab Jin’s lower hips, casting just over the top of his ass kind of possessively and the curve of his rolls behind Jin when Jin turns. The man starts brushing his kid-gloved hands up his back as they rock to some Andalusian thin bass strung with a pumping tune to just over the lower part of Jin’s shoulders.

And then they grind, movements like stop motion under the strobe light, slow and with more than just cadent rhythms, but it begins to feel more real to Jin. The hard hips scraping his, legs and thin polyblend-clad thighs rubbing like merciless glory. The mess of people around them only press them tighter and Jin tugs a little at the shirt beneath the jacket, dancing fingertips along bare skin like it’s by accident and the man’s whole body threads right up against his, chest to his, heart thundering.

He withdraws from Jin reluctantly, almost apologetically as if the blistering reaction to purposeful friction surprises him. The thrilling thought that his nameless dance partner hasn’t done this before strikes Jin like an erotic thrill. Like a sense of control almost.

The mask seems like a charming distracting feature over the rest of a frame that moves surprisingly sinuous for that body type, winding the way a dancer would and Jin finds himself reaching even more into taste-testing touches, wanting to open buttons, get it all off and see how that body writhes with absolutely nothing on. _Fuck_. When the rhythm begins to tighten between pauses and thrashes the crowd circling and brushing them, Jin closes his palms over the curve of an ass and despite the ear-deafening mash of music ringing around them, Jin can almost _feel_ a breath catching.

He bites his lip when shaking fingers run up under his hoodie, trace a tentative, trail of still gloved hands right in the gap between denim and skin. Hot. And it gets like that when his dance partner gains a bit more courage, turning in Jin’s palms, letting Jin’s tense, unmoving hands brush the front of his trousers, feel hard excitement and the answer to his half-questions regarding the immediate future.

Jin finally unbuttons the jacket from behind, letting rush after rush give him inspiration for what to touch first; rocking as he gains contact with hard ridges and faint musculature. The responding arch of the man’s back against his chest makes Jin rock once more, edge the rise of his crotch along fabric and more hardness under fabric, closing distance and raising the bar on intent.

His head lolls back on Jin’s shoulder, crush of velvet and feathers on his jaw before he feels the inviting curve of the man’s ass pressing back against his forming erection and that’s a definite prelusory “fuck, yes” to the—

“Wanna go somewhere more private?” he breathes next before failing to resist licking along an earlobe, savouring an encouraging shiver, skin tightening.

Jin’s stranger turns on him and offers a faint nod, the eyes behind the mask shut with utter abandon.

Jin closes his fist on the man’s belt, leading him through the dark and surging crowd, the music ringing in his ears. Once they’re halfway across the dance floor, Jin glances back. The man looks so _visibly_ nervous; his entire body is screaming of it, looking around like everyone _knows_ what they’re off to do. The manner strikes Jin with a familiarity in the middle of the sweeping delirium of want coursing in his veins, relief and desire. The most Jin can conclude in this state is that the risk that he’ll lose this one to nerves is way too high to wait for a hotel room. It feels stupid to think of it in terms of a sale but Jin’s got to seal the deal and fast before the sex-soaked promises he’d felt back there on the dance floor melt away by any cool wave of decency.

There’s a hallway leading to the restrooms with leather padded walls, but past the two separate swinging doors the hallway bends into an alcove to an alarmed emergency exit. There. Against the door. Jin already has his fingers rushing under a shirt to hot skin. The music still deafens them both so he knows he’s being a little rough when he thrusts the man’s thin, exquisite frame back and the door makes a rattling noise. The body cleaved to his tenses in a flinch. Jin descends on a bare throat, the appeal of those gorgeous lips for later when he can work out how to manoeuvre with their masks still on. The cologne he wears is like something Jin smelled before, more after-shave than vanity.

No technicalities seem to matter as his Toucan-chan starts to push at the hem of his hoodie, drag the zipper, splays gloved fingers over his chest through a t-shirt. Hungry as the mask’s beak brushes along his shoulder and lips graze before teeth stripe along his collarbone. Oh _fuck_ , no, not nearly enough. Needs to touch, feel more skin. Jin twists back, tilting a hard jaw upward so he can suck and lick along the hard beats of a throat as he catches at a surprisingly delicate wrist, tugs at the cuff of a glove until he gets the message across.

Bare fingers dive into his hair as if Jin had asked for it aloud, told him he wanted it like this. Like this where he gets to unbutton a loose shirt, tear until he can get his mouth on creamy, blue and green light-refractive skin, pressure-friction, moans muted by the scream of harmonic bass beyond the hallway.

Something rather virginal about the body twisted around him, the coy and shy tension in his musculature makes Jin feel like something of hunter. It all makes him tear at the man’s belt buckle faster, smiling at the rumble he feels under his tongue, groans only vibrations where sound doesn’t carry. It’s just a whim; he gets his hand in the quivering man’s pants, curls his fist around the hilt of his cock, letting it spring into his hand, heavy in his palm, now freed. Body arches like it was meant to be curved around things, the pretty lips beneath the mask parting, mouthing a word in a soundless encouragement. Jin imagines what his voice must sound like, consistent with the man’s build, tenor and growly from the rumble against his mouth, under his fingers.

Jin doesn’t actually just suck strangers off in hallways, but he finds himself sliding down to his knees, staying the panic in the hands that move to stop him. It’s that, the fact that his Toucan-chan is scared. Scared of things Jin will never know about; maybe of being seen, or of the fact that Jin puts the whole thing in his mouth right away, letting his tongue bathe the underside, get him perfectly slathered with his mouth, take him to a hot, tongue-covered point of no return.

Hips snap the head of it deeper, banks it near the back of his tongue and shaking, slender fingers cord against the hair at the back of his head. Jin flickers a gaze up at the blue and bright shadows-covered stranger, black depths through mask eye holes, mouth slack with wonder at him. Jin kind of wishes he could keep this one; he’s adorable. He tightens the close of his mouth and lets those naked hips dive into him, fuck his mouth in an unstoppable volition. The way he grinds in, while trying not to, has Jin shut his eyes with the spell of it, thrusting his own hips at nothing.

Jin braces his fingers on the backs of thighs, rubbing coursing appeals up and down with each suck, bobbing with hollowed cheeks only pausing at cruel intervals, loving the way his accomplice in this seems to go weak, the way Jin can feel knees against his chest go all trembly, twisting and spreading his thighs helplessly to buck right into Jin’s mouth, making him a mess of slick wetness and the area around his mouth just as bathed.

Jin can feel the excitement pummel him, the cramp of his erection digging at his jeans, make him feel on the edge of reckoning. He opens his mouth a bit wider to loosen his hold. He doesn’t want him to come yet; wants to feel the inside of this man, feel him come alive around his fingers and burst right in his mouth, on his tongue. He can’t communicate with him by anything but touches and Jin fully intends to get him open and ready for him, to flip him around later, cheek pressed to the door gasping in afterglow, ass lifted and beckoning back for Jin.

Toucan-chan writhes with an obvious frustration, at the loss of tightness, still tensely rocking into Jin’s slack mouth as Jin fumbles in his pocket for lube and a condom. He has to pull back to gain leverage into his own back-pocket and fingers in his hair tug faintly, pleadingly. Oh my god; Jin imagines this sweet thing is probably willing to beg and Jin thinks that in this little alcove, he’s going to make him come to pieces, leave him dazed and panting.

The man is watching Jin, watching him slick his fingers, spreading the lube up and down two fingers in his fist, head of a cock sitting on Jin’s tongue, wet from the hood to mid-hilt with him, and bitter-salt to the taste. As Jin slips his fingers between spread thighs and the hands in his hair slam back against the door as if to brace himself from falling, he takes the head fully between his lips and tongues the slit, lapping up beads of precome. His forefinger and middle finger trace a slick circle behind balls and Jin smiles a little when gangly thighs spread even more, pants pooling to ankles, heel of an expensive dress shoe kicking free. One hand grabs the door handle, does a bit of a lopsided pushup to give Jin better access.

Jin can’t even hear his own groan when he swallows him hole right as he presses the first finger along tightly wound skin, pushing into a restricted edge-swallow of heat and hips snap right up into his open mouth. The angle is perfect as his toucan rides high on the door, and they both seem to follow a coiling beat, drums in Jin’s ears.

He digs in, slow to the knuckle, twisting his finger and sucking harder until all he can feel is silk, throbbing skin against his tongue and rough palate when the back, legs and arms splayed back against the door all jump. Jin tilts his head, wants to get a look at him while he lifts a second finger in, determined to watch him melt.

He gets a view of a long body taut to the door, open shirt and debauched flush, heaving skin beating pale to white under a far off flickering strobe light. Jin brings him in, slurping as his tongue flattens and lets the man grind forward, sees the pulse of a thin throat hammer next to deep swallows; all this as Jin makes twisting presses inside him, spreading his fingers until he’s stretching satin wetness. The bucking motions of Toucan-chan’s hips are no longer just toward Jin’s mouth but against this stretching invasion and Jin can see the man suck in his full bottom lip and the sounds he must be _making_...

It all motivates Jin’s pace as he quickens, turns it into an assault, shutting his eyes and rocking the body in his hands between sucking and thrusting and Jin is hard as anything, almost can’t wait, considers dropping trow and grabbing him, pushing those bony knees to the walls of their alcove and grinding his cock inward like each pummel will end them both. Feeling a thigh rise beside him and the shivering twitches keeps Jin in this moment, allowing for the burn of his own aching excitement, wait and lose himself in this blistering task.

And it’s _so_ worth it for the fingers that grasp with one hand desperately in the hair behind his head, pushes him into suffocation before the edge of cock sliding past his lips is more pulsing and thickening, splashing the back of his tongue with bitterness, plastering the inside of his mouth with hot strings of release. And the wiry frame gasping above him crumples, sweating and shaking.

Not kind enough to give reprieve after all that, Jin swallows and gets to his feet, already unzipping his own pants and just like on the dance floor, this man responds like he’s tuned to Jin, throat flexing as he swallows thickly, letting go of Jin’s hair and dropping to curl around his cock and Jin grinds between a shaking thigh and the hand around him squeezing and it’d bad; he’s dangerously close if this keeps up. He leans forward, nuzzling the beak up and out of the way so he can get his lips, bite as he draws those hot hands off him.

He’s just checking his pockets for a condom and the man opens his mouth for him, letting Jin explore with his tongue and the beak is _just in the way_. Jin figures he can make allowances as he grinds against his thigh again. He impatiently tips the mask up so he can close his lips over a hungry tongue and he feels it, something entirely different, crushed right against his cheek and the weak moans he’s drinking in are a familiar cadent, the tenor he imagined. It all clicks really fast. Nose rushing down his jaw, full lips nipping a defeating, killing line over his throat, _incredible_ fingers now forcing his jeans down around his thighs.

“Nakamaru?!” he chokes.

“Yeah?” Maru bites him on the collarbone and that makes him cleave and thrust helplessly. Maru doesn’t pause either, seemingly unperturbed; just takes the condom right out of Jin’s hand when Jin reaches up to push the mask out of the way fully.

Jin feels dizzy. This is twilight zone shit. Except that there had been signs, but he hadn’t been _thinking_ , had loved every corner of Maru’s body, had kind of wanted to keep him. He’s already massaging the condom on Jin. “What—what are you doing here?!” he demands in Maru’s ear.

Maru leans back, wetting his lips, tongue over the swell where Jin had been biting. _That’s just…_. He looks sardonically down at Jin, somehow thoughtful and fretting even in the press of them together in darkness and lazer flashes. He leans forward again. “Presently, I’m trying to decide whether you can hold me up against this door or whether I’m going to have to get my trousers dirty on the floor…”

Jin’s still breathing heavily and his whole body is still screaming for release and Maru’s soft-sated words in his ear just does him in. “I meant at this party,” he persists weakly. “What are you doing _at this party_?”

Maru’s eyebrows quirk downward with impatience and he reaches for Jin’s shark mask, removes it, going for his lips again and Jin gives in again, drunk on the taste of him, the fact that Maru has been all over him, that his mouth still feels loose and weak from having sucked him off. “I was looking for _you_ ,” Maru snaps after breaking away, growl of his tone muted by the music and the smile tugging at his lips. “Now fuck me, you idiot.”

It’s a good an invitation as any and Jin smiles before he wraps his arms around that hard, angular torso; before grabbing for thighs and pushing him back, slamming him neatly against the door. Maru hooks his feet against the alcove’s corner and the pad of the walls. Jin watches Maru’s eyes slide shut when he tests with his fingers, re-experiences the stretch of his fingers, somehow loving the tension in the body curled around him more. Then Jin drives in, head of his cock crushing to a fully wet rim, gasping helplessly against Maru’s neck, in control again, thrusting into the resisting crown of it.

The door seems to rock from Jin’s thrusts and Maru’s back being crushed to the metal of it, mouth muttering things between bites at his own lips. Jin curves in, loving the slide of it, blistering effect, hearing the boom of the speakers and the rumble of Maru’s choked yells, mastering that rhythm until it goes inside him, rocking for him. He presses his lips to Maru’s neck, kissing in relief in a way before he speeds up and the pressure makes Maru fist his hair again.

He comes, body seizing up, still riding in it, clusters of biting into a lit bulb, groaning against Maru’s jaw. It’s like a trip, realizing that Maru’s rocking himself up into it, edge of his feet as leverage against the walls and it couldn’t have been better than this. Not with anyone else. Somehow. He can’t put it in words, feels the grip-memory of all of Maru, the way he felt, sweet and hungry for him on the dance floor.

Maru would make a worthy secret.

*

Of course, secrets are relative in the celebrity world and because Yu has a fucking big mouth, Jin will never really live down the story of his going to a costume party and accidentally fucking one of his best friends. Despite swearing off any of Yu’s parties in the future, Jin considers the score pretty even.


End file.
